


Enjoy Yourself

by FatalYaoi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalYaoi/pseuds/FatalYaoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Wesker have been spending a bit too much time together, reminiscing about the S.T.A.R.S days that Chris seems unable to move on from. One night of unforgettable events at the Spencer mansion leads everyone to believe Albert Wesker dead, except Chris. What happens when Wesker suddenly arrives at Chris's flat as if nothing happened?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enjoy Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so first of all, this story is going to be AU for the following reason: Jill wasn't the one who 'died', it was just Wesker which will be explained in the story. I know that doesn't seem like a huge reason to call it Alternate Universe but due to how important it was to the story line of Resident Evil 5, it can't possibly be considered same universe. As far as I can tell, most of the other things will be the same besides the occasional plot change but they shouldn't be too big. So, just sit back and enjoy the new story.

Chris sighed as he finally arrived at his flat. The brunet hadn't been forced to work this late in months but the recent discovery of possible B.O.W smuggling wasn't something to be taken lightly and the B.S.A.A were working around the clock to get as much information as possible. Jill had their contact, Reynard Fisher, giving constant updates but as the amount of information was limited, they were forced to remain where they were. The west African branch of the B.S.A.A could handle it if anything went wrong in the immediate future but without more steady information, the United Kingdom branch couldn't just send out teams to invade innocent towns.

What worried Chris the most was the possibility of Wesker being behind the possible B.O.W smuggling. Jill insisted differently but Chris couldn't seem to get that option out of his mind and he was, eventually, forced to leave due to his persistence on the subject. The problem was, after he had dove through the large window in Spencer's Mansion, the B.S.A.A never found a body or any trace left of Albert Wesker. Chris simply couldn't understand why everyone assumed he was dead unless they were just in denial.

Chris chuckled bitterly as he entered his apartment building thinking to himself how lucky the rest of his team were. What he wouldn't give to not have to live in constant fear of Wesker...

Sighing again, Chris made his way to the fourth floor and began fishing out his keys from his pocket. Their last departing had been months ago and still, Chris could not forget it. It was a memory that haunted him simply because he couldn't accept Wesker dying was so effortless.

Quickly making his way down the carpeted hallway after exiting the staircase, Chris found his flat and began unlocking the door. Pushing the key in, he turned it but heard no unlocking sound- the door was already unlocked. He frowned and put a hand to his waist where his gun sat in it's holster before turning the handle and pushing the door open with the keys still secured in the lock. The room in front of him was dark, the only light spilled in from the hallway lights behind him. The light was enough for Chris to see past his own overgrown shadow and allow him to view the half lit living room in front of him.

The flat itself had multiple floors and was big despite being a rather simple apartment. From the doorway, Chris could see the black corner couch sitting in the middle of the room. Behind it sat a small black side table pressed against a wall and above it, a silver mirror that Jill had gotten and hung for him several years ago. In front of the couch was a small throw rug that protected the wooden floors from the black coffee table in front of it. Several feet in front of that was a fireplace with a large television hanging above it.

The living room alone was enough for any man to love but he really couldn't stand it. The apartment was simply too large for him and if the B.S.A.A hadn't been the ones paying for it, Chris wouldn't have been living here. However, the B.S.A.A had specific qualifications for where each member should live and, unfortunately, this was the closest apartment building to headquarters.

Chris walked in, his left hand still holding a gun as his right hand pulled the keys from the door and flipped on a light. Large light sconces sat on either side of the mirror and it was somehow enough to light most of the room. Chris quickly closed the door and tossed his keys onto the couch before walking deeper into his house, ignoring the staircase to his left and instead going down a hallway that was to his right. The hallway lead to the kitchen, first bathroom, and dining room. The bathroom was a small room to his immediate left but before entering, he flipped on the hallway light and peered in.

After deciding it was empty, he continued, his gun still at the ready as he turned on another switch and entered his kitchen. The kitchen was also large, a small island in the middle where you could both eat or use as storage- which he did neither of. Chris certainly wasn't home enough to cook often let alone have enough cooking supplies to have to store in more than one or two cupboards. He continued through the kitchen until he reached the dining room that was also empty. He sighed and turned around before beginning to make his way back through the house, turning off the lights as he went.

The brunet returned to the living room and went up the stairs where his bedroom was. He frowned and entered the room, seeing absolutely nothing out of order. Hreplaced his gun into his holster before turning and sitting on his bed.

"Maybe I just forgot to lock it this morning..." he muttered to himself as he kicked off his shoes eyeing the green tone of them in the lighting.

He sat on his bed for several long minutes, trying to figure why he remembered distinctly locking his door earlier that morning before his phone rang, successfully startling him into answering.

"Redfield," he answered and Jill's voice responded.

"Hey, Chris. Tomorrow, we'll be tracking more of Mr. Fisher's work but it should be simple and I think you should stay home," from the hastiness of Jill's voice, Chris could tell Jill didn't want to be making this call and that was enough to tell him why she was making it in the first place.

"You can't be serious," Chris growled as he laid his left forearm on his thigh and slouched over.

"I'm sorry, Chris, but you need to let it go. Wesker's dead and until you accept that, you won't be able to focus on the current mission. If the B.S.A.A really are being smuggled into Africa, then we need to stop it and I need your help."

"If you need my help, why the hell are you taking me off the case?"

"I'm not, Chris. I just think you need a day or two off. You haven't taken off work since that night at the mansion, maybe it could help," Jill suggested softly.

"If anything happens-"

"I'll call you. Don't worry, if we decide to send a team to Africa, you're still first on the list. Just take a few days to relax. I'll keep in touch, alright?"

"Yeah," Chris grumbled in response.

"Goodnight, Chris."

"Night," Chris growled before ending the call harshly.

Was he really over thinking it too much? Was Wesker truly dead?

Chris scoffed and tossed his phone absentmindedly onto the side table. He stood and pulled off his shirt, tossing it into a nearby clothes bin. After removing his slacks, he was able to pull on a comfortable pair of shorts before sliding into bed.

Several hours of mild Wesker contemplating later, he found himself finally asleep.

They were there for Ozwell E. Spencer, Chris and Jill were in no way expecting to find Albert Wesker standing several feet from the elder's dead body. Chris immediately began shooting, both shocked and confused at the scene that had played out moments before. Jill took his lead and began shooting as well, both ready. Unfortunately, Wesker was very ready for them; He dodged each shot successfully, his inhuman powers showing vividly as Chris caught a glimpse of glowing red eyes through tinted shades before he was quickly disarmed. Chris certainly didn't expect Wesker to vanish and reappear beside him, elbowing him before punching upwards to send Chris flying back.

Wesker then turned on Jill but Chris only caught so much as he attempted to recover from the assault. By the time Chris was done reeling, he turned to find Wesker choking Jill against one of the many pillars in the room. Chris attacked, lightning strikes lighting up the night sky just outside the window as he punched and missed the blond. Despite the miss, Wesker had released Jill to dodge the punch which allowed Chris to continue.

Chris kept attacking, miss after miss before Wesker simply stopped Chris completely by catching the brunet's hand mid swing. Chris saw the faint smirk on Wesker's face before Wesker twisted the brunette's arm and put Chris into an even more uncomfortable position. Wesker immediately took action, punching Chris squarely in the cheek.

Chris responded by reeling into a spin, kicking Wesker only to have the attack blocked. Jill immediately began shooting, one shot after another going straight through Wesker as he teleported while simultaneously fighting off Chris's , Wesker just pushed Chris aside to take on the shots alone, managing to dodge each with perfection. Chris had recovered just as Jill's last shot rang out and another strike of lightning lit up the scene.

Immediately, both B.S.A.A members attacked again; Chris got his attack in first, only to be blocked and punched in the face. Jill was second, her knife at the ready. Chris turned to see Jill flying uncouthly through the air. Jill hit back first into one of the many bookcases surrounding the room, the glass shattering as she fell to the floor with the many shards of glass. Chris then tried attacking again, his attacks dodged then blocked. Chris was unexpectedly elbowed in the stomach before being tossed into the air, Wesker's firm grip around Chris's throat as he was suddenly being dragged across a nearby wooden table before being thrown across the room, landing somewhere in front of the windows.

Chris barely recovered before seeing Wesker slowly progressing towards him. Chris pushed himself into a standing position, diving away from Wesker's grab at the last moment. Wesker spun on his heel, eyeing Chris who was silently considering what to do next, prepared for the next attack. Wesker straightened, his back to the window as Jill grabbed for Chris's discarded gun.

"Now!" Jill shouted and Chris nodded.

His knife was out in a split second and he was charging at Wesker. Wesker stopped Chris, only sliding a few feet back at the impact before he kneed Chris in the stomach and forced him backwards. Another lightning strike left them in the dark for a split second; Jill took this opportunity to shoot while they were all blinded A single shot hit Wesker square in the glasses, the force in his face causing him to stumble backwards. Another shot rang out while a lightning strike simultaneously struck. The lights flickered and Wesker was momentarily blinded before another shot hit him. The blond stumbled again but with the window directly behind him, he fell onto the colored and wet glass.

The window shattered under the force and the black figure was suddenly gone from sight, leaving Chris to sit and stare at the now broken window. Rain was still pouring and a small puddle was beginning to form in front of the broken window. Both B.S.A.A members were panting and it took a long moment for either of them to move.

Chris was the first to do it, walking towards the window hesitantly as if expecting the blond to suddenly reappear and continue the fight. Chris put a hand on the window beside it, making sure to keep his balance as he leaned over the edge, his head immediately getting splashed with the downpour of rain. His eyes looked down the edge of the cliff to the rocks and pounding waves below- and he saw nothing.

Chris startled awake, sitting up quickly while his eyes scanned the barely lit room. It had only been a few months but this definitely wasn't the first time Chris had been woken up by the memory. On the contrary, it had haunted him for weeks after and only made appearances when he was highly stressed, such as times like this.

Reaching to the bedside table, he grabbed his phone and flipped it open, reading the time; Not nearly late enough. He groaned and tossed the phone back onto the table, the loud thud telling him it fell to the floor. Tossing the blankets from his waist, Chris got out of bed and began towards the bathroom that connected to his room. Slipping into the room, he started the shower before eyeing his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

His hair was sticking up everywhere, there were dark circles under his tired looking eyes, and then the dark circle on his chest. His eyes stopped at the large bruise and he examined it closer by looking down directly at it. It had been months and the damn thing was still there, though, considering it was from being thrown into the air only to be dragged across a table with blunt force of Wesker's palm against his chest, he wasn't too worried. The hand marks around Jill's neck took about a month and a half to go away which said quite a bit about Wesker's strange and his willingness to use it.

Chris eyed the black-blue spot again, his fingertips traveling to it absentmindedly as he traced the outline where he could faintly see the marks from Wesker's fingertips. Chris shivered and looked away as the steam from the shower was beginning to cloud the mirror and he began stripping. After stepping out of his night underclothes, he then stepped into the shower, the hot stream berating against his skin in a soothing way that allowed him to relax for the first time since he'd awoken.

He leaned his head back, the water washing over his scalp and sinking into his short brown hair, as he contemplated over the nightmarish dream that continued to haunt him.

There was so much about that night that he remembered; The rain beating against the windows, the long moment that it took for Wesker to turn and face them, the look of complete indifference on Wesker's face as he fell out the window- it was all so haunting. The lightning strikes, the loud rolls of thunder, the way every single one of Wesker's attacks were relentless- Chris hated being able to remember every last detail.

In S.T.A.R.S, as pointman, that was something that he had been trained to do. Due to his sharpshooter skills, he was placed as pointman often and had to remember things like directions, specific mission details, and sometimes he had to memorize certain techniques. However, when it came down to reporting the mission, in the end, he always had the most detailed reports simply because of his keen sense to detail.

And that was making all of this far too difficult for him.

Wesker was superhuman; Falling out of a window was certainly not going to be enough to kill him no matter what Jill or the rest of the in denial B.S.A.A members said.

Albert Wesker was still alive.

And strangely enough, Chris felt a small bubble of hope beneath all the haunting worry and fear looming within him. True, nobody knew what the blond was planning when they found him because he hadn't even been the one they were looking for and Chris hadn't even seen him since Rockfort Island.

Well, that was a lie.

But nobody knew that.

Chris hadn't been seeing Wesker in a personal manner, the blond would simply show up. The first few times, the two had fought but it all seemed playful rather than serious. Wesker wasn't trying to kill Chris and it took a few 'chance' meetings for the brunet to realize Wesker wasn't there to fight. That night specifically, Wesker had shown up to find Chris in a particularly bad mood due to having a small fight with Jill. It was rough at first; As soon as Chris saw Wesker, he simply sighed and stood up, complaining that it was a bad time. Wesker taunted him but made no advances toward him and soon, Chris just got accustom to Wesker being there. The blond knew where the brunet lived, that's where most of their fights took place, so coming home to find Wesker sitting on his couch wasn't out of the ordinary. They never really spoke too much about their lives or what either of them did when they weren't together; Instead, they mainly reminisced about their time in S.T.A.R.S, recalling various situations where one had saved the other or a certain order had lead to dramatic changes.

Chris never understood why he didn't question it or why he didn't push Wesker away that last night the two had spent together. Chris didn't fight against Wesker when he began undressing himself, their lips moving against eachother in hasty passion. It was messy, sloppy, rough, and a bit dangerous but it was the most fun Chris had ever had.

And then Wesker didn't come back.

Chris sighed a shaky breath through the spray of the stream of water as he absentmindedly washed the suds of the shampoo away. In the weeks the two had spent together, neither had ever shown any sort of sexual interest and then... that.

Chris felt guilty, ashamed, used, everything that he should've been feeling. However, he was also feeling reformed, rejuvenated, and simply like he needed that one night where he didn't care who was fucking him, just that the man opposite him was inside him and enjoying it just as much as he was.

But Chris Redfield was a man of morals and his conscious was absolutely unforgiving when it came to the constant guilt. That's why, only a half week later, Chris was so surprised to see the blond standing where Ozwell E. Spencer should have been.

That's also why Chris was surprised that Wesker didn't hold back, not a single bit.

Chris had fought Wesker enough to know the difference between his real strength and his playful strength; It definitely wasn't playful.

Wesker wanted him dead.

However, this wasn't anything new to Chris but it certainly was confusing. Chris didn't have any real feeling towards Wesker; A couple of talks and a one night stand wasn't enough to get emotionally involved, not to mention Wesker's betrayal so it was very clear Chris's main concern was the guilt he felt for sleeping, quite literally, with the enemy. It also didn't help that there was no way he could tell any of this to anyone, especially Jill, so simply 'talking it out' was not going to be an option.

Chris began cleaning himself, hands scrubbing conditioner into his hair after he finished scrubbing his body. He stayed several minutes under the spray of water, his hair rinsing free any extra soap while his body simply needed the relaxing feeling of the water washing over it.

Before long, he shut off the water and stepped out onto the small rug that awaited him. He reached into a nearby cupboard and pulled out a towel. He then dried himself quickly before wrapping the now damp towel around his waist. He moved in front of the mirror, wiping the steam away as he pulled out a razor and began shaving.

It was a bit time consuming, having to shave stubble that he's ignored the for past few days. Between work and his personal situation with Wesker (was there even a personal situation?), shaving was definitely not one of the priorities that he had time for. He barely had time to sleep let alone upkeep himself.

He flinched as he almost cut himself, checking area to make sure there was no blood before continuing.

He had to admit, it was nice taking a day off but that didn't mean he would simply do nothing the entire day. Oh no, he planned on using the extra time to search through recent news and see if he can possibly track down where Wesker may be. It would take time and detective skills he may or may not possess, but he would not accept that Wesker was dead.

Washing off the excess shaving cream, Chris used a hand towel to dry off his face before tossing that aside and examining his work in the mirror. He took a few seconds to inspect the now hairless skin before he caught his own gaze and his eyes fell to the mark on his chest again.

Chris could still make out the thumb mark just above his collar bone, rather close to his neck, while the remaining four fingers wrapped around the other side, digging just above the collar bone as well. They were almost gone but Chris still had to avoid low collared shirts until now.

The fact was, the damn thing was still there, reminding him of the night that he'd prefer to forget.

"Dammit," he muttered as he turned away from the mirror.

The mark reminded him of far too much; Not just that night but also the fact that Wesker was out there somewhere most likely planning something ridiculous like any other comic book villain, which was something the blond seemed to be turning into.

Chris turned away from his reflection for a second time and grabbed his night clothes from the floor. He exited the bathroom, tossing the clothes somewhere near his clothes from the night before and began searching for his phone, which he found on the floor between the bed and the nightstand. He glanced at the time before tossing the mobile onto the bed.

7:12

It was still pretty early but he suppose he needed the extra time to search.

He contemplated whether he should eat or get dressed first and when a low rumbling filled the quiet room, he realized the need for food won over. He secured the towel around his waist before beginning towards the door. He figured he could start some coffee, throw some bread into the toaster, then hurry back up and change.

However, that idea was demolished the moment he stepped foot outside of his doorway.

"Chris," the blonde's sneer chided from the living room. He didn't bother turning around to look at Chris and, instead, remained at the window staring out across the London street below.

Chris didn't say anything and instead, turned on his heel and hurried back into his room. Wesker got there first, blocking Chris from his gun.

"Now, now, Chris. I'm not here for that," Wesker smirked.


	2. It's Later Than You Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the previous chapter felt a bit rushed going into Wesker being alive within the chapter of finding out he’s dead but this story isn’t about Chris obsessing over Wesker being alive so there was no point in dwelling on Chris too much. So here we go, Chapter 2!

“Then what are you here for?” Chris demanded, taking several steps back and absentmindedly grabbing at the towel around his waist to keep it secured.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wesker asked, his eyes dipping to the deep imprinted bruise of his handprint on Chris’s chest.

 

“I'm not going to sleep with you--”

 

“I’m not here for that either,” Wesker chided before waltzing past Chris.The brunet took this as a chance to grab for his gun.

 

“Dress quickly--” he began before being forced to teleport just before a shot rang out in the small room. Wesker reappeared a few inches away and chuckled, examining the bullet now embedded in the wall. “Now, now, Chris. I told you I’m not here for--”

 

“You almost killed us!” Chris shouted, the gun still raised despite knowing very well that a simple handgun would be rather useless in the situation.

 

“If I had wanted you dead, you would be,” Wesker said before turning on his heel and continuing down the stairs.

 

Chris easily could have taken more shots but decided against wasting the bullets. Instead, he did as he was told, considering the towel around his waist was beginning to sag a little too much for his liking. With a last look over his shoulder towards the doorway, he quickly shed the towel and replaced it with a pair of briefs and pants.

 

The brunet didn’t bother with a shirt as he walked towards his window that overlooked the living room and found Wesker sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. His jacket was tossed over the armrest to his left and he was silently staring towards the window.

 

With the gun in hand, Chris exited his room, standing at the top of the stairs with his eyes on the blond who stood and turned to look at him. Wesker was smirking but Chris remained unamused as he slowly made his way down the stairs.

 

“What the hell do you want?” Chris growled at the blond, stopping just in front of the stairs to keep a distance between them.

 

“I simply wish to speak with you, Chris, and you certainly won’t be needing that,” the blond stated, referring to the gun in Chris’s right hand.

 

“You almost killed us!” Chris repeated loudly.

 

Barely a second went by before Chris’s back collided with the stairs painfully causing him to cry out towards the blond hovering above him. Wesker’s right hand was gripped around Chris’s neck while the left was keeping Chris’s right hand at bay by holding it tightly at the wrist. Wesker had leaned completely on Chris, both knees on either side of the brunet resting on the stairs while his body sat on Chris’s stomach. This, unfortunately, caused great discomfort in Chris’s back that was now being pressed against the stairs while Wesker simultaneously choked him.

 

“I’m not here to kill you. Drop the gun, Christopher,” Wesker said clearly.

 

“How... Do... I--” Chris struggled out, his face now reddening from the lack of air.

 

“Drop the gun and I will release you,” Wesker stated, loosening his grip on Chris’s neck ever so slightly.

 

The brunet thought about it for a long moment, silently gasping for air before finally letting the gun drop from his fingers. Wesker immediately released him, grabbing the gun, removing the bullets, and throwing them across the room as he walked back toward the couch. Chris struggled to stand as air was suddenly flowing through him. His hand went to his throat, touching it gently just as he did with the bruise on his chest that was still currently visible.

 

“You’ve yet to tell me why you’re here,” Chris said as he contemplated going to the kitchen for a class of water to rid his throat of the soreness now lingering.

 

“I have, you are simply unable to listen. I wish to speak with you.”

 

“About what? What could be so damn important that you would show up at my apartment weeks after faking your death?” Chris asked as Wesker tossed the unloaded gun across the room.

 

“You seem to misunderstand,” Wesker muttered with a smirk as he sat himself on the couch.

 

“Considering I’ve done nothing but question you since you’ve gotten here, I think misunderstanding is an understatement,” Chris growled as he slowly made his way across the room, stopping when it was a few feet from the couch.

 

“I’m simply here to speak with you or have you already forgotten our little arrangement?”

 

Chris quite literally froze in his place, his eyes on Wesker who was now looking at him. Chris wanted to scoff or walking away or, hell, even kick the bastard out but he didn’t. The brunet just stood and stared at the blond who surprised him beyond words.

 

“Let’s forget, for a minute, that you didn't try to kill me or Jill--” Chris began as he walked in front of Wesker, practically pacing in front of the table that separated them. “--Have you forgotten that we slept together or the fact that you’re completely insane?”

 

“It’s rather interesting that I’ve tried killing you before and that certainly didn’t stop us from speaking nor did it stop the sexual relations that followed,” Wesker spoke simply as he sat back comfortably on the couch.

 

“It was _once_ and I don’t plan on making either mistake again.”

 

“It’s unfortunate you consider it a mistake,” Wesker commented absentmindedly, the glasses over his eyes hiding any sort of emotion that Chris could possibly read from the blond.

 

Staring transfixed at Wesker certainly was not something Chris was accustom to but he found himself doing it often enough that he sincerely could not bring himself to care that his mouth was draped ever so slightly open or that he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was staring directly at Wesker. Chris sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned on his heel and began towards his window, finding it a bit easier to deal with Wesker if he couldn’t _see_ him.

 

“You don’t?” Chris asked after a long quiet moment of his eyes scanning the lower streets of London.

 

“Of course not. You believe I would do something like this without being fully aware that I wanted it to happen?”

 

“Either that or you were trying to get my guard down,” Chris muttered, his eyes falling on the various buildings around them and the B.S.A.A building that was so close that he could see it from a few streets away.

 

“Chris, I believe I know you well enough to assume that something as simple as sex wouldn’t break you,” Wesker responded, his eyes remaining on Chris who absolutely refused to turn around.

 

“It could just be some sort of mind game you’re playing--”

 

“Why would I waste time on such nonsense?” Wesker asked almost exasperatingly.

 

“Because, you’re you!” Chris shouted, turning around to look at the smirking blond. “Why did you fake your death only to show me that you’re still alive? Why did you sit and talk to me every single fucking day for no reason without making a single move? Why did you fuck me then try to kill me a week later? Because you are Albert Wesker. You play your mind games and when people don’t want to play, you make them just like you’re doing now.”

 

“Very well. Before I leave--” Wesker began. The blond uncrossed his legs and stood, walking around the couch to where Chris stood, apprehensive of Wesker suddenly coming towards him. “--Perhaps it would be in your best interest to consider the fact that I didn’t kill you or Jill. I hurt you considerably, yes, but how would it have looked if I simply let the two of you go? And perhaps you should consider the many reasons that I possibly could possess for not returning during the three day period between when we had sex and I faked my death.” Wesker suggested after stopping in front of Chris who looked rather confused and angry but wasn’t speaking. “Lastly, perhaps you should consider why you are the only one who is aware of my current whereabouts and why I haven’t killed you for simply knowing such crucial information when I easily could.”

 

“If I die, the B.S.A.A will not stop until they kill you. That’s the only reason--”

 

“I believe you’re mistaken, Christopher. The reason you have yet to call the B.S.A.A falls upon your fear of what will happen to your precious coworkers if they come in contact with me. I don’t fear them and you are well aware of that. You’re alive because I didn’t kill you. It wasn’t in my interest to bruise you so considerably,” Wesker stated as he lowered his glasses to peer over them only to gaze rather intensely at the mark still visible on Chris’s upper torso.

 

“Is that suppose to be some sort of apology?” Chris asked in disbelief as he stepped back from Wesker as the blond was a little too close for comfort.

 

Chris was now almost against the wall, his back close enough to feel the cold radiating from the wall. Light was now entering through the windows and the bright reflections could be seen on the floor around them. Dust particles could be seen in the streams of light, raining down in flurries of unorganized madness around them though Chris was far from focused on them. Instead, his eyes lingered on Wesker as he chuckled and shook his head.

 

“If you must, take it as one but you were the one who came bursting in while I was in the middle of a mission,” Wesker stated as he slid his glasses back up to his eyes, successfully hiding the cold red cat eyes that Chris could feel piercing through him.

 

“You had a mission to kill a defenseless old man. I’m not exactly surprised, Wesker,” Chris muttered.

 

“Defenseless? Now, Chris, you can’t possibly believe he was defenseless. He worked for Umbrella, after all.”

 

“Defenseless wasn’t a very good choice of words, I admit,” Chris shrugged. “Are you going to leave or not?”

 

“I suppose. Perhaps we can have one of our talks later,” Wesker suggested with a smirk.

 

The blond grabbed his jacket from the couch, slipping it on with his back to Chris. The brunet took this opportunity to slip towards the door, the entry now open and ready for Wesker to leave through it by the time the blond had turned around. Another smirk from the blond before he began towards Chris and the door, stepping up to it as if the doorway was an enemy of some type.

 

“If you insist,” Chris stated as an overdue response to Wesker’s previous statement.

 

Wesker’s smirk remained as he continued walking but just as he passed over the doorway, he stopped and spun on his heel, Chris looking at him in shock considering he was following him with the door and he was unable to close it farther than a quarter with the blond in the way.

 

“Before I leave--”

 

Wesker had turned so suddenly that Chris honestly didn’t even know what happened until he had the door pressing dangerously hard into his torso. The doorknob was pressing into his abdomen while the rest had him pinned against the wall. Half a second later, the door was slamming into the doorframe and Chris’s body was pressed against Wesker’s. The blonde’s lips were connected with Chris’s and his mind was reeling from all that was happening.

 

Chris didn’t even realize he was kissing back until a tongue was suddenly playing with his and he realized just how stupid he was being. Unfortunately, he simply could not bring himself to care as Wesker’s lips pulled from his and began trailing bites down his jawline. Chris realized his hands were tangled up in Wesker’s leather coat, pulling the coat by both sides so the blonde could be pressed against him. When Wesker’s teeth found Chris’s neck, the brunet could feel a smirk on Wesker’s lips but caring was long gone. The blonde pulled his lips from Chris’s neck, his lips now hovering just above Chris’s left ear, hot air lingering and colliding with the cold air that was touching the wet parts of his neck and jaw.

 

“Perhaps you should enjoy yourself more often, Chris,” Wesker whispered darkly.

 

Despite Chris’s grasp on Wesker’s coat, the blonde vanished, reappearing inches away with his hand on the doorknob. The smirk remained as he calmly opened the door and slipped out, closing it behind him and leaving Chris to sit in absolute shock.

 

It took a few long moments for it to fully register Wesker’s words but the entire time, his eyes were glued to the door as if expecting Wesker to come back. Once the blonde’s words registered in Chris’s mind and he realized his enemy wasn’t coming back, he shook his head and pushed off the wall, the cold air suddenly hitting his back making him shiver.

 

“Fuck...” Chris whispered as he eyed the door again.

 

With another shake of his head, Chris retrieved his gun from the corner, picking up the clip that had separated from it as well. He reloaded the gun and tossed the weapon onto the coffee table before dropping listlessly on the couch.

 

A sudden ringing caught his attention and he realized his phone was going off in his bedroom. Chris stood and rounded the couch before tackling the steps two at a time. Entering his bedroom, he was far from sure where his phone was but he found it on the floor beside the bed within a few seconds from the mere loud, obnoxious sound it was emitting.

 

“Hello?” he answered. Chris’s gaze fell on his living room as he turned and walked towards his window. The entire room was in his view when Jill answered, exasperated and talking over a loud chattering background.

 

“Chris, I need you to come in. We aren’t sure but we may need you. We’ve tracked Raynard Fisher down and we’re working on getting information from one of the Western African branches. Depending on the information we get, we may need to dispatch you immediately.”

 

“On my way,” Chris said before hanging up.

 

Chris immediately pocketed his phone and turned on his heel. He rushed towards his closet and pulled out one of his work shirts, slipping it over his head in a single swoop before hurrying into his living room.

 

The brunet was all too aware of Jill’s intentions when it came to whether or not she was going to accompany him to Africa when it was his time. Jill’s work at the B.S.A.A seemed to be piling up and, according to Jill, there was no possible way she could leave. They already had a partner lined up from one of the African divisions of the B.S.A.A but it just was not the same. Chris didn’t want to admit it but he couldn’t help himself from thinking badly of Jill. Fighting B.O.Ws and the now very active black market became Chris’s goal when he joined the organization.

 

Chris assumed Jill had the same ambitions but now....

 

Shaking the thought from his head, Chris exited his flat, making sure to lock the door before making his way down the hall and into the elevator. The lift took him into the basement level and he quickly found his car.

 

It was difficult to think that Jill may not feel as strongly about something this serious as he did considering she was there when everything started. She followed him through it all and just recently began leaving his side for work related things that she never even informed Chris about. Maybe Chris was becoming too obsessed?

 

No, he couldn’t allow himself to think like that. He was doing his job, protecting not only countries and villages but, inevitably, the _world_.

 

Sometimes, he thought maybe he was over-exaggerating but the moment he began contemplating all the B.O.W related missions he’d been on, it became obvious that over-exaggerating was not even possible. They were able to shut down Umbrella, that alone saved them from future outbreaks and they were barely covering it as it was.

 

Chris didn’t think about it often but B.O.Ws were not the only thing threatening the planet.

 

So yes, the B.S.A.A were quite busy in the end but he felt, rather strongly, that Jill should be more emotionally involved-- like he was.

 

Every time he came face to face with Wesker, he was angry. Every B.O.W outbreak, every maniac who believed in Umbrella, every time Jill simply brushed him off as if his mere experience wasn’t worth the time to sit and listen to him--it reminded him of the nightmare they lived through in Raccoon City all those years ago.

 

All the people who died that night and the days that followed as Raccoon City itself was slowly taken over by the horrors that were unleashed that day. Jill was there-- she had to run through the city fighting off residents and people she _knew_. How could she not be emotionally involved?

 

Chris didn’t have much more time to dwell on his emotions considering he was rushing into the B.S.A.A building. He passed by the receptionist who didn’t even look up as he rushed by. The entire lobby was empty, the white couches in the corner looking rather abandoned considering even the normal english magazines that sat on the side tables were nowhere to be seen. Chris hurriedly hit the button for the elevator, his anxiously tapping footsteps echoing through the large room. His eyes scanned the room as the faint ding after ding of the elevator behind him informed him that the elevator was on its way.

 

His gaze fell on the large B.S.A.A logo on the floor between the windowed double doors and the receptionists desk. The giant logo was also copied on the wall behind the desk, the large sign glowing blue, and the logo could even be seen on the floor of the lift as it finally opened and Chris was able to step inside.

 

“Ninth floor,” the receptionist called.

 

“Thanks,” Chris said but hit the eighth floor instead-- _his_ floor.

 

The brunette’s phone caught him off guard and he quickly answered it, his eye on the floor numbers as he quickly passed by each floor.

 

“Chris, where _are_ you?”

 

“Jill, I’m in the building. I need to stop and get my headset then I’ll be right up.”

 

“Don’t bother. I need you here,” Jill said hastily before ending the call.

 

Chris growled and shoved his phone into his pocket, quickly changing the floor and causing it to make a momentary stop right before it hit the ninth floor. Eventually, it opened on the right floor and he exited into a largely occupied room. Computers lined the walls at all sides, even some lined the middle of the room but each computer had the B.S.A.A symbol planted on the back. Jill was standing in the middle, shouting out orders and giving directions to whoever she was speaking to in her earpiece.

 

“Chris, finally! I need you to get on the computers and help over-ride whatever signal is stopping us from contacting Fisher,” Jill said, rushing up to him.

 

“Jill, I don’t specialize in that. How do you expect me to be useful if you aren’t deploying me?” Chris asked though Jill cut him off mid question as she told the person on the other line of her bluetooth to hold on.

 

“Chris, you can do more than shoot a gun. You’ve been through the training--”

 

“I was in the research training! I don’t know how to hack computers from a different network!”

 

“When you two stop bickering, I think we got through,” called one of the agents who was typing hastily away at the computer in front of her.

 

“Thank God,” Jill muttered, turning on her heel and rushing towards the big screen in the middle that was now showing the screen the unknown agent was working on.

 

“The network that was blocking out the connection is completely untraceable but--”

 

“I don’t care just get me Reynard Fisher,” Jill commanded as Chris joined her side.

 

“Roger that,” the agent muttered before visibly blocking the unknown network and reconnecting the call.

 

“Fisher,” the man answered in a clear accent, his vocal patterns appearing on the screen in green wavelengths.

 

“Reynard, we were able to stop the network that was interfering but we don’t know for how long. I need your intel now!” Jill said into her earpiece.

 

“Villagers are dying, some disappearing completely. I’ve personally seen no use of the B.O.Ws but black market deals are happening in Africa. I even have word of some company--”

 

“What’s the name?!” Chris shouted, wishing terribly that he had ignored Jill’s command and gotten his own earpiece from his desk.

 

“I do not know,” Reynard said quickly, his accent lacing his words. “I have no proof of this happening and there was simply word of it. I suggest you send a team.”

 

“I’m on it,” Chris said quickly, turning and making his way to the lift.

 

“Chris! I’m not sending you,” Jill said sternly. “Thank you, Mr. Fisher. I’ll send you the data for the dispatched team as soon as I--”

 

“I’m going, Jill,” Chris stated matter-of-factly as he pressed the button and the lift opened.

 

“--can.” Jill hung up and quickly ran towards the lift, stopping the doors from closing by sticking out her hand. “I’m not sending you _yet_. I’m sending a team that’s in the area and when they report in, I’ll send you.”

 

“You’re telling me to just sit around and wait while whole villages are wiped out? You _heard_ him, Jill! He said there was a company involved!”

 

“Chris, he said there may be one and even if there is, Umbrella is gone!” They were both now shouting and the entire room had gone deathly quiet as all the agents had their attention focused on the two bickering.

 

“It doesn’t mean some other freak isn’t going to come along and try to take over! Hell, we don’t even know if Wesker is even--”

 

“YES WE DO!” Jill’s voice rose a little higher than her normal yelling and commanding voice. Chris stared at her, his jaw clenching dangerously as the female continued. “Albert Wesker is dead. Umbrella is dead. S.T.A.R.S is dead. We can’t do anything about any of that anymore. You need to stop getting emotionally involved in these missions, Chris, because you will end up getting yourself killed,” Jill whispered the last part knowing all the eyes that were placed on her back now that she had raised her voice so dramatically.

 

“At least I’m _trying_ ,” Chris hissed, stepping forward so Jill could hear him clearly.

 

“What is that suppose to mean?”

 

“You stopped caring at Spencer’s Mansion. You stopped caring when you watched Wesker fall out that window and you stopped caring when you thought the major threat that loomed over us for so long was gone. We are never safe!” Chris was raising his voice again, now speaking to the room as well as Jill. “We work protecting not only the United States but the world and as agents, we are never safe. There will _always_ be a threat and there will _always_ be emotions involved!” Chris eyed Jill dangerously, stepping forward again so that she could hear him whisper, “and when you realize that, maybe you’ll become less of a boss and more of the Jill Valentine I remember from S.T.A.R.S.”

 

With that, Chris pounded his palm against the button that forced the doors to close and Jill stepped out just as they closed. Chris leaned backwards, his back resting on the cold metal of the lift as the entire elevator jolted and he began moving down.

 

Emotions were raging through him and he could not tell if he was angry, incredibly hurt, or something completely different.

 

His answer didn’t even arise until he found himself back at his flat. It was a bit later than he expected considering he drove around the city for a few hours trying to think of what to do. Eventually, he ended back at his apartment and upon inserting the key, he found himself sighing heavily.

 

It was unlocked.

 

He pushed the door open, his keys dropping into a small dish beside the door where they are suppose to go (though he rarely used it). Through the dark orange-yellow streams of light that were gleaming from the window, Wesker’s figure stood in front of them. The blonde’s back was to Chris and the simple shift in Wesker’s poise told Chris he was well aware of the brunette’s presence. Wesker’s gloved right hand was hooked around his left wrist behind his back and they slowly unhooked as he turned, his coat swinging stylishly behind him.

 

“I didn’t expect you to return so soon,” Wesker commented as Chris, unexpectedly, began walking up to him.

 

Chris rounded his couch and as Wesker began another sentence (something about Chris not looking very surprised to see him), Chris approached him. The brunet began closing the distance between the two but a gloved hand on his jaw stopped him.

 

“Now, what is this?” Wesker asked, his eyebrow raised in suspicion and interest.

 

“Fuck me before I change my mind,” Chris growled and with a smirk.


	3. Enjoy Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trying to decide if I want to make this a long or short story. Whelp, in the meantime, enjoy the chapter while I try to decide. Oh and this chapter is suppose to be named the same as the first chapter, just so you guys don't question it too much!

Perhaps it was the incredible range of emotion flowing through Chris, but kissing Wesker suddenly turned rather dangerous. The two were all over the place, hitting walls, knocking items off of tables, and they even managed to break Chris's phone by slamming it into the railing of the stairs. It was at that point that the two had to break, forcing Chris to take the remaining pieces from his pocket and toss them aside.

"Well then, that won't be of much use now, will it?" Wesker commented, smirking as Chris shrugged his shoulders and began up the stairs, Wesker on his tail. "You aren't worried they won't be able to reach you?"

"It doesn't matter right now," Chris growled as he reached the top, turning sharply to pull the blond into another harsh kiss by the front of his coat. Chris used his grasp on the coat to shove it off Wesker, allowing the piece of clothing to slide down the stairs followed by his glasses.

"You're certainly interactive," Wesker commented quietly after the two had broken apart. His catlike eyes watched Chris remove his B.S.A.A shirt as he walked casually into his room, Wesker again behind him.

"You seem talkative," Chris retorted as he went to his side table and pulled out a small tube and a package of condoms. "I'm not making the same mistake again," he muttered as he tossed the two absentmindedly towards Wesker who caught both easily.

"We won't be needing these," Wesker stated, throwing the package of condoms onto the table.

"As long as you're not infected with anything  _else_ -"

The wording alone had Chris almost immediately on the bed, a now shirtless Wesker straddling him. Chris hadn't really expected the rough treatment, being forced down onto the bed by his neck, so he was left reeling. Wesker didn't exactly  _look_ angry and it wasn't until he spoke that he knew Chris really was quite angry.

"Don't insult me, Christopher."

Oh yeah, he was in trouble. The use of his full name was enough to show Wesker's anger but the subtle growling beneath the words made it much more worrisome and perhaps a bit arousing.

"Fine," Chris growled. The brunet then gripped Wesker's pants for support and flipped them around, catching the blond off guard. Chris ended up with his knees on either side of the blond, his fingers clinging desperately to Wesker's wrists despite both knowing that Wesker could gain the upper hand rather easily. "I want to be on top," Chris stated intrepidly.

Chuckling, Wesker replied, "No," and immediately shifted his weight throwing Chris off-balance. Wesker used his thigh to stop Chris from falling off the bed, straddling him to the mattress faster than Chris could even fall.

Chris sat up and connected their lips kissing him harshly until Wesker was working at his pants. Chris didn't even notice until skin grabbed sensitive skin and a jolt of pleasure shudder through him. The brunet gasped as cold air sudden washed over warm skin and he looked down to see his own vibrant erection looking back at him. By the time Chris looked back at Wesker, the blond was working on his own pants, tossing his belt away and stepping off the bed to remove the leather pants that were getting far too tight. Chris followed and was soon shoving his own pants and boxers from his hips. He inched them down until finally kicking both articles of clothing from the bed.

Orange sunlight shined over Wesker's toned chest, glowing over the blonde's already tanned skin. Chris almost laughed as he remembered how pale the villain was in S.T.A.R.S and how different he looked now that the progenitor virus, as well as the Tyrant Virus, truly had taken over. It even almost saddened him as he laid back and watched the blond slowly climb over him.

When two fingers pulled playfully at Chris's bottom lip, he closed his eyes and slowly accepted the digits. A pang of guilt ran through him before his lips closed around Wesker's knuckle and his tongue began lathering the pale fingers with saliva. When Chris ran his tongue between the fingers, teasing each separately, Wesker pulled them from his mouth seemingly unable to take the sexual tension by the glazed over red eyes that refused to leave Chris's face.

Wesker spread Chris's legs and settled between them once they were wide enough. The blond leaned in and began kissing already bruised lips. Fingers pressed at Chris's entrance and the brunet tightened out of surprise.

"Come now, you know what to do," the blond whispered. Between their mingling breaths and the calming intimacy in Wesker's voice, it became rather easy for Chris to relax despite the sudden intrusion in his lower half.

"You didn't do this last time," Chris hissed out through gritted teeth as he tried desperately to remember if this was suppose to hurt or feel good.

"We were in a bit of a hurry last time, were we not?"

"Yeah but-" Chris gasped as Wesker's fingers were engulfed to the knuckle causing Chris to feel both utterly full and yet completely off as if it simply wasn't enough.

Fortunately, the voice of reason seemed to be too engrossed in the pure pleasure to force him to realize that the blond above him, kissing him, fucking him was Albert Wesker. The man who assisted Umbrella in everything that not only Chris but the B.S.A.A as well had been fighting against for years.

"Fuck it, I'm ready!" Chris growled, pushing Wesker down and away.

"Rather forceful tonight," Wesker commented quietly as he obeyed and pulled his fingers from Chris.

"You would be too if you had to deal with Jill," Chris grumbled as Wesker opened up the tube of lubricant.

"You seem to forget that I did have to manage Ms. Valentine quite a bit in S.T.A.R.S," Wesker stated as he squeezed the cold substance over his length and worked at it casually. "I don't suppose she changed much."

"She wasn't your boss," Chris growled as Wesker prepared himself by laying over Chris, each arm laying on either side of the brunet.

"Wouldn't you rather be on your front?" Wesker asked as he looked down at Chris with surprising interest.

Chris thought about it a moment and after looking into Wesker's cold, red eyes, he shook his head. However, he didn't have much of a chance to say anything because Wesker was suddenly pushing into him.

This was only his second time with a man and, to say the least, it was quiet different when you weren't on your hands and knees with your ass in the air. He could feel  _everything_  and that turned out to be not that great of a thing when he hadn't allowed Wesker to prepare him properly or thoroughly. He remained quiet, despite the pain apparent on his face, and allowed Wesker to do what he wished.

Chris was actually surprised when his mouth was suddenly covered with Wesker's and he realized that Wesker, in that moment, had thrust whole-heartedly into him. The kiss stopped his shouting while also distracting him from the waves of pain, and pleasure, soaring through him. Wesker pulled back after a moment, eyeing Chris carefully who couldn't seem to stop squirming beneath him.

"What is the matter with you?" Wesker asked after watching Chris's back arch, almost completely off the bed, before shivering back against the sheets.

"You aren't doing anything," Chris snapped breathlessly.

"I assumed you were in pain," Wesker defended as Chris groaned and sat up, supporting him by the leaning on his palms.

"Fuck me," Chris growled before connecting their lips in a passionate, needy embrace.

Wesker smirked into the kiss and did as he was told without a fight. Within minutes, Chris was grasping desperately to Wesker's back, sweat mingling on their connecting chests, and the obnoxious sound of skin hitting skin along with desperate pants from each. Chris moaned at the playful biting his shoulder was receiving from Wesker and suddenly noticed his fingers were digging into Wesker's back. Luckily, his nails were short and wouldn't leave marks but it was enough to keep Wesker going at full force. It wasn't until Wesker began biting at Chris's neck that the brunet began losing control of his body. Pre-cum was smeared on the stomachs of both men but neither cared or noticed. The blanket they had pulled over them early on was long gone as was any sort of anger Chris held for the blond from their previous meeting.

Chris couldn't hold back the moan that escaped his lips when Wesker reached into the small space between them to grab onto the weeping cock rubbing anxiously against Wesker's stomach. Wesker smirked and captured the puffy lips with his. Chris's groans were drowned into Wesker's tongue, escaping whenever the two separated even slightly to expose the small space between their lips.

Chris's grip got slightly tighter, his fingers digging harder into Wesker's back as his stomach began to tense and he realized his release was soon approaching. Wesker felt the tension in Chris and smirked, pulling from the kiss to watch as his stroking increased. It took a single swipe of his thumb over the member's head to push Chris over the edge. The brunet truly blacked out for a long moment and didn't realize that Wesker was finishing as well until he felt the warm, sticky substance leaking from his opening.

Wesker rolled gracefully from Chris, pulling out easily from the panting brunet. Wesker's dark chuckle broke the silence, forcing Chris to side glance towards the blond in annoyance.

"What?" Chris growled as he tried desperately hard not to move- the squishiness in his backside was beginning to bother him.

"I certainly did not expect this to happen," Wesker stated in amusement. "I do believe you enjoyed yourself."

"Well yeah, sex does that," Chris said with an agitated sigh.

"Not when it is with enemies,"

"Not all enemies come with complicated pasts," Chris retorted quietly.

"Is that your excuse then?  _It's complicated_?" Wesker asked, his taunting english accent flowing vividly into an angry Chris.

"Until I have a better one, yeah. Have a problem?"

"Why would I?"

"You seemed to before," Chris responded as, slowly, pain began building over the uncomfortable feeling. "You left almost immediately after you finished last time."

"Work before pleasure, Chris. I also assumed you would blame me for the events of that night-"

"You were the one who made the first move," Chris muttered dangerously, receiving a heavy sigh from the blond.

"Either way, I assumed it would be in my best interest to leave you to your thoughts."

"It wasn't."

"My mistake."

The conversation ended like that so neither spoke for another few minutes. It was not an awkward silence but comfortable certainly was not the word for it either. It was as if either of them could speak but both chose not to so, in a sense, they didn't feel words were necessary for a moment like this.

"I'm showering. You can join me if you want. I don't exactly know what you plan on doing but I can't say I care much either," Chris growled as he sat up, legs swinging carefully over the side.

"Perhaps I should leave. You seem to be feeling guilty a bit quicker than I originally assumed," Wesker stated as he, also, sat up.

"It's not guilt. I'm still angry at Jill," Chris corrected as he tried to summon the courage to stand up.

"Well then perhaps I will accompany you in the shower," Wesker said quickly.

Chris simply nodded and stood, shakily, before beginning to make his way to the bathroom. Wesker watched before tailing him, following the struggling brunet before he turned on the shower, adjusting it to as hot as he could possibly make it without scalding himself.

Chris didn't bother to wait for the water temperature to adjust before stepping inside, Wesker following him into the wide tub/shower mix. They remained quiet for the first few minutes, silently washing themselves, sharing the water with ease, before Wesker's eyes landed on Chris's chest again.

"Now you look like the guilty one," Chris muttered after a few seconds of watching Wesker stare at the glistening bruise.

"I suppose I am rather guilty for it, am I not?"

"That you are," Chris muttered before beginning to turn away from him.

Wesker stopped him mid-turn, the shower spray hitting Chris' opposite shoulder awkwardly now that he had stopped. Chris eyed Wesker, eyes meeting, before turning to face Wesker completely.

"Albert Wesker doesn't feel guilt. Don't think I'm going to believe that," Chris stated simply, with light shake of his head.

"You are different, Christopher. I do believe you're aware of that," Wesker respond simply, his hand raising to touch the bruise carefully.

"How different?" Chris asked though it came out in a quiet whisper.

Wesker didn't respond immediately due to his entrancement with the black and blue skin. Perfect circles of water droplets flaunted over already wet skin and Wesker couldn't help but notice the quiet hitch in Chris's breath at the direct contact from the blonde's fingertips. A smirk broke Wesker's serious demeanor at the shaky expression clouding Chris's better judgment. Chris had a large mix of mistrust and utter contentment; Wesker's touch was far too gentle to ignore and it was making it rather difficult to push him away. Wesker traced the bruise for, what seemed like, the thousandth time before Chris shook his head and stepped back.

"Stop admiring your work," Chris muttered dangerously as he turned from Wesker fully.

"It's rather rare that I get to see the damage I do first-hand and, as I said Chris, you are different."

"I don't even understand what you mean by that," Chris stated through his exhaustion.

Whether it was their nightly activities or the constant games that Wesker played with him, he wasn't sure. However, that didn't stop him from closing his eyes, enjoying the hot spray of water pounding against his front- that was, until Wesker pressed against his back.

"Perhaps-" Wesker's hot breath against Chris's right ear sent a shiver up Chris's spine, "-You should contemplate it, hm?" Chris gave a quiet groan from the vibration that Wesker sent from his lips to the brunette's ear.

It took a moment for Chris to re-wrap his mind around the situation at hand. Wesker's muscular front pressed to Chris's broad back, his erection pressing erotically to his lower back. Chris didn't realize he was leaning into Wesker's touch, as the blond's hands wrapped around to Chris's front and began to explore his stomach.

"You just cannot seem to enjoy yourself, can you?" Wesker asked, his voice dark and dangerously quiet.

"I am," Chris choked out, his right hand raising above his head to wrap around Wesker's neck behind him, pulling the blond harder against him.

"Jill should not be the one on your mind," Wesker muttered, his lips rubbing against Chris's earlobe.

"She isn't," Chris promised quietly.

"Good," Wesker whispered, his lips closing on the skin available to him.

Teeth closed around sucked, delicate skin causing Chris to let out a moan and push harder against the blond. Wesker hummed quietly, causing Chris to lose his voice momentarily and choke on a moan.

"I'm tired," Chris moaned in exhaustion.

"Then lets make this quick."

Quick certainly wasn't how it went. Chris found himself pressed against the shower tile, cheek to wall far longer than he imagined. If Wesker hadn't been holding him by the waist, he would have fallen from exhaustion long ago. Chris clung desperately to the tile, his nails digging into the ridges between each shiny white slate. His finger tips were white and his back red from the hot water still spraying down on him but the now suddenly sensitive skin was far too much for him the handle. He could practically feel every single water drop land in the constant rush; it had him squirming and writhing. Wesker was too busy thrusting into the brunet to really notice the increase in unintelligible moans that seemed to get swallowed by the sound of water running. The steam from the hot shower was suffocating Chris senseless and just when he  _knew_  he wasn't getting enough air,Wesker's thrusting became erratic telling Chris that the blond wouldn't last long.

Chris used this opportunity to stand up straight, pulling himself up with the use of the wall. This not only allowed him to breath but it also tightened himself around Wesker causing the blond to fully stop and silently question the movement through his unstable panting. In response to Chris's movement, he simply reached around to the brunette's front and began aggressively pumping him while thrusting himself deep into the tightness that Chris created for him.

Several more seconds and both were panting messes, though Wesker a more dignified one that didn't allow Chris to see any sort of exhaust that was beginning to hit the villain. Fortunately, Chris could barely stand from his own exhaustion and was soon rushing to finish washing away the smell, feel, and remnants of sex from himself. Wesker removed himself from the shower before Chris and once Chris was finally out, he was surprised to see Wesker sitting on a new sheet and clean comforter in his black pants. His blond hair was slicked back but slowly drying causing several pieces to begin to pull from the wet treads and fall over his forehead.

"You made the bed?" Chris asked with a breathy chuckle.

"I certainly wasn't going to sleep on dirty sheets. I have standards, Christopher," Wesker stated simply, glancing towards the brunet who shed the towel around his waist to pull on a loose pair of pants.

"You're staying?" Chris asked dumbfounded, tired eyes falling on Wesker as he laid back on the right side of the bed.

"Do you want me to leave?" Wesker asked watching Chris sit on the bed carefully.

"You'll just be gone in the morning. I don't see much of a point," Chris stated as he eyed the lamp that was the only light source for the two.

"True but I will return, you are well aware of that," Wesker said simply, "However, if you wish me to leave-"

"Stay if you want," and with that, Chris turned off the light and laid down, pulling the blankets over his cold, and still rather sensitive, skin. "What do you mean when you say I'm different?"

"Perhaps another time, Chris."

"You've been saying it all day," Chris sighed.

"Perhaps another time."

And that was that.


	4. While You're Still In the Pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapter took forever to get up but I just went on break and I've been enjoying it far too much. Within three weeks, I've finished the first three Assassin's Creed games and re-played Resident Evil 5. Lazing around is nice. Hope everyone had nice holidays and I look forward to what you guys think.

Chris awoke to loud ringing sounds. His first thought was his phone but he vaguely recalled the item no longer existed in one piece so that was far from possible. When loud knocking followed by the sound of a female voice shouting incoherently joined the loud ringing, Chris realized it was the door. Chris looked beside him, unsurprised to see the spot empty, before stumbling from bed. He didn't bother pulling on pants over his boxers as he rushed out of his bedroom and down his stairs. He stumbled towards the door, unlocking it (something he would question later) before swinging it open.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

"Asleep. Here."

"You were supposed to be at work hours ago, Chris! You have a job and I don't give a shit how angry you are at me, you should be—"

"There was no point in coming into the office. I was waiting for you to call," Chris grumbled.

"I did call!"

"Right, it's broken," Chris muttered as he mentally remembered the device breaking for the second time.

"Just because you aren't being deployed yet doesn't mean I don't need the help!"

"You'll have to do it without me," Chris stated simply. "I'm there as an agent to help people. I'm not trained to do anything else and I'm not obliged to do anything else. Do it yourself, Jill."

With that, Chris closed the door.

* * *

Jill shouted and knocked on his door for at least another thirty minutes after that but eventually gave in when he showed no signs of reopening the door. By the time she was gone, Chris was beginning to feel the events of the previous night and could barely move from the couch once he had sat down. He pulled his laptop into his lap and opened it, waking it from its sleep-mode.

It took several hours but after browsing recent news for signs of Wesker, he decided to try African news and, well, there was quite a bit occurring there. A multi-industry conglomerate, Tricell, was on the rise. There had been a recent change and Excella Gionne, whose family owned Tricell, was the new CEO.

Chris was in the middle of reading the article when a window popped up, covering the text. Chris looked at the video in confusion before sighing as Jill's face came into view in the window that popped up.

"At least you're doing something productive while ignoring me," Jill stated as Chris eyed the tiny green light beside his own camera at the top of his screen to show that she could now see him as well.

"If you aren't going to tell me then I'll have to find out myself. What do you want?"

"I dispatched the team this morning. Their doing a scouting before I send you in. It should take about a week, at most."

"Is that all? I was actually in the middle of something," Chris stated anxiously, eyeing the story that sat on the window behind Jill's video.

"Tricell isn't a secret Umbrella, Chris. They help fund the B.S.A.A so whatever you think you're on to, you're not."

"That would make it a very good candidate to be the next Umbrella, don't you think? Corruption within the organization that is sworn to help; remind you of anything?"

"Goodbye, Chris."

Chris growled and shut his laptop a bit too forcefully.

* * *

Several hours went by and Chris took the time away from work to trade in his phone for another. Chris returned to his flat, set the new phone on the table, and made his way into the kitchen where he began making himself something to eat.

He was halfway through his sandwich before sighing.

"Should I make you one, too?"

"Might as well."

"You should learn how to knock," Chris stated, pulling out another two pieces of bread.

"Why bother?" the blond asked, entering the kitchen.

"What if I was having a meeting with Jill?" Chris asked as he began smearing mayonnaise and mustard onto the bread.

"That would mean, of course, that you two were on speaking terms and I don't believe you are."

"We have to be, she's my boss."

"You cannot remain friends with someone above you. It simply never works," Wesker stated as the blond slowly made his way around the kitchen, observing the room.

"You said that in S.T.A.R.S. often enough," Chris reminded him before slapping on whatever meat he had near him and pushed the two pieces of bread together.

"I certainly couldn't grow attached to any of you. It might have made my betrayal more enjoyable."

"Get the fuck out, Wesker," Chris growled, tossing the sandwich angrily in the blonde's direction before leaving the room in haste, his own sandwich left behind.

"Someone's touchy," Chris heard behind him causing him to stop and spin on his heel, throwing a punch backwards.

The blond, however, wasn't there which made Chris trip forward. A second later, his torso was pressed against the right side of the hallway wall. Chris felt Wesker's weight against his back after a second and realized the blond had grabbed both of his hands, managing to pin them behind Chris's back in the nonexistent struggle.

"Now, Chris, is that any way to—"

"Shut up. I'm not going to—AH!" Wesker's grip tightened causing Chris to stop talking. "That  _hurts_ ," Chris warned when he felt pressure on his joint.

"I will release you when you cease taking shots at me," Wesker explained simply.

" _Fine_."

Wesker released Chris, stepping from him before walking to the living room. Chris stretched his arm, rubbing his shoulder as he followed the blond. Wesker sat on the couch but Chris stood, eyeing him dangerously.

"Do you recall the mission-"

"Not this again," Chris groaned, sitting on the nearby stairs.

"Amuse me."

"Yes, I remember  _the_  mission. You called in the middle of the night telling me to get ready. We completed a drug bust with just the two of us," Chris stated almost robotically.

"Do you recall what I asked when you got into the car?" Wesker asked casually causing Chris to roll his eyes.

" _Yes_ ," Chris hissed.

"And what was that?"

"You asked me if I trusted you."

"And what did you say?"

"Wesker, this really isn't—" Chris began quietly.

"Amuse me, Chris," the blond repeated.

"Of course, Captain," Chris said distantly.

Wesker chuckled at the dead panned tone in Chris's voice. Chris flinched slightly when the blond was suddenly in front of him, hovering dangerously above him, his gloved hand holding Chris's jaw in place.

"Do you trust me?"

"Never." Chris's response was backed by a powerful gaze and clenched jaw that made Wesker smile.

"Good," he growled before connecting their lips.

* * *

Chris really hadn't expected to have sex with the blond again… But he did. And then did it again.

And neither men could really care they hadn't even made it to the bedroom before the second time and ended up on the couch and several other places around the house. The two had grabbed anxiously at each other; biting and licking, growling and moaning, pulling and scratching… It was pure lust, just what the two wanted. More damage was done, though Chris's phone was spared, many other items were not; tables were pushed over, more items were knocked from the walls including the mirror Jill bought for him, they narrowly missed the television, pulled down the curtains around the windows and were both now currently wrapped in said curtains on the glass splattered floor.

Chris was panting heavily and Wesker was even quietly breathing heavily. Chris groaned, sitting up slowly to look around his destroyed apartment.

"I can't just keep getting new furniture," Chris stated, kicking a table leg with emphasis.

"Perhaps next time we can make it to the bed," Wesker suggested, cupping the back of his head in his right palm as he relaxed.

"I'm surprised we made it the first time," Christ muttered honestly receiving a chuckle from the blond.

"I was leading then so it isn't all that surprisingly. This, however, is all your doing."

"If I'm the one being fucked, how am I supposed to direct where we go? That is automatically your job," Chris shot back, lying back beside the blond. "It's not like any of this matters, anyway. I'll be in Africa by this time next week."

"Jill decided to send you after your dispute?"

"I'm deployed in a few days. I assumed you knew; you tend to know everything," Chris muttered in almost annoyance.

"That I do. I question why you bother working with the B.S.A.A when-"

"They don't mistreat me."

"Jill seems to," Wesker stated simply.

"She's being a boss."

"Perhaps she's taking the term a bit too literal. If you wish, I can-"

"Don't you dare even suggest it," Chris growled, quickly sitting up and taking the curtain with him as he began standing.

"It's just an option," Wesker pointed out as Chris grabbed his pants from the television before pulling them on.

"That's an option for you.  _Not_  for me and as long as we do whatever this is that we do, you will not threaten her or anyone I know or we are done, Wesker."

"Come, Pet, I was jok-" Wesker began, chuckling as he sat up to watch Chris toss the curtains back towards the window.

"You weren't, actually. Don't even attempt that," Chris growled, throwing Wesker's pants forcefully at him.

"Finished already? I thought we could go a few more times," Wesker sighed, pulling on his pants from under the curtain-turned-blanket.

"Yeah, we're finished, Wesker," Chris growled, kicking aside pieces of glass with his bare foot before strutting angrily across the living room. "Let yourself out."

* * *

The following day, Chris was woken by the sound of his name being called. Groaning, Chris sat up before hearing the sound of his front door closing.

"Chris? Are you okay?" called Jill's worried voice coupled by the sound of her readying her handgun.

"I'm up here, Jill," Chris called before hearing hurried footsteps.

"What the hell happened down there?" Jill gasped as she saw a small trail of blood on the wooden floor and then saw the blood stained sheets at the foot of Chris's bed. "Chris!"

"I'm fine. Glass got in my foot, that's all."

"How did all that happen?" Jill asked as she rushed to Chris's side, pulling back the sheets to examine his feet.

"It's… complicated," Chris muttered receiving a dangerous glance from the opposite brunet.

"Chris, you should get these cleaned up," she sighed. "I'll do it."

"You don't have to, Jill, really. Maybe you should…"

"I should what? Wait around for your feet to get infected effectively endangering the entire African operation? I really don't think I can do that."

"What did you come here for?" Chris asked through gritted teeth as she turned on her heel and disappeared into his bathroom.

"I just thought I'd come by and see how you're feeling. We left on a sour note the other day and you wouldn't see me yesterday so I figured you were over the situation by now. I wanted to make sure you were preparing properly because we really don't know when we'll be sending you out. It could be sooner than expected," Jill explained, reappearing with a handful of gauze, antibacterial spray, and towel.

"Yeah, I'm prepared."

"Obviously not by the looks of it," Jill muttered as she began spraying the wounds with the antibacterial spray.

Chris hissed, wincing as Jill dabbed the now bleeding wounds with the towel. She began slowly wrapping it, lifting the right foot carefully before repeating the process with the left.

"The next time you decide to have a party or whatever the hell happened down there, try not to make it dangerous," she warned as she stood. "I should get back to work," she stated, dropping the towel on the floor to begin wiping the stains from the wood.

"Don't bother, I'll get it. You should get back to work… they need you," Chris muttered, sitting up fully. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, physically stopping her from cleaning the floor.

"Oh fine but if that living room isn't clean by the time you go to Africa, I'm cleaning it myself."

"What else would you be doing during that time?" Chris muttered sarcastically standing and wincing at the suddenly sensitivity in his feet. Now that Jill had cleaned them, they were reopened and sending waves of pain in each step.

"So you aren't over it, then," Jill stated, referring to comment that she wasn't meant to hear.

"Now probably isn't the time to talk about it. I have work to do," Chris lied, gesturing to the living room as he watched Jill walk down the stairs with no intention of following her.

"Well, whatever you do you might want to stop leaving your door unlocked."

And that was the end of the conversation.

Jill left with no goodbye and Chris watched her leave with no intention of speaking to her until he was officially deployed. Sighing, the brunet leaned on the balcony that overlooked his living room, his forehead resting on his arm as he realized just how out of control everything seemed to be.

Maybe Wesker was right, in a way. Was the B.S.A.A the right place for Chris?

* * *

It took a few hours for the throbbing in his feet to stop but once they did, Chris began cleaning. He managed to push all the glass and broken pieces of furniture into its own pile and even had the curtains replaced with some extras from his linen closet, another extra item courtesy of Jill.

Once  _mostly_  finished with the living room, Chris made his way upstairs and began preparing for the trip. Without any need for a bag, he didn't have to pack but he did have to lay out some of his needed items; His gun, ammunition, a carrying case to hold extra items, his B.S.A.A outfit, his knife, and whatever the hell else he might possibly need and was able to carry without a bag.

Chris had just laid out his holster when he heard his front door open and close quietly. When nobody called, Chris grabbed his gun and called out;

"Jill?"

"You've cleaned the place. Why bother?" Wesker's voice stated. Chris groaned but didn't drop the handgun.

"Learn to knock."

"Expecting the boss, are you?" the blond asked, eyeing the gun as Chris rolled his eyes and tucked it neatly beside the holster.

"She came by earlier to talk. She ended up tending to my foot."

Chris felt Wesker's eyes fall on the brunette's feet and he heard a quiet hum from the blond in response. Wesker responded with a question soon after but Chris didn't actually hear it through his musings on the items that were laid out in front of him.

"What?" Chris asked causing Wesker to raise his eyebrows and give him an odd look.

"How did you get the wounds?"

"You pissed me off," Chris grumbled as he turned from the small pile of items to look at Wesker.

"You cannot possibly blame me for that," the blond chuckled darkly.

"The glass I kicked last night cut me and I was too pissed off to notice."

"Your anger is far from my fault," the blond stated, one hand around his back while the other was raised and moving animatedly as he spoke.

"You made my anger by offering to kill Jill or do you not remember?" Chris asked challengingly.

"I recall joking about it, yes."

"That's all it is to you, isn't it? Just another dead person- just another fucking joke. You can't understand why this is an issue, can you?" Chris growled as he stepped away from the foot of his bed and towards Wesker.

"Why not explain it to me?" Wesker smirked.

Wesker  _smirked_.

Without a warning, Chris lunged at the blond, the two of them colliding into the opposite wall beside the doorway. In the collision, Chris released any sort of hold he had on Wesker making him swing into a punch once he found his bearings. Wesker dodged it with ease, chuckling darkly as Chris punched again and again across the room. The two ended up in a dance of dodging, Chris turning on his heel to kick at the blond, only for Wesker to smirk, catch the leg and spin Chris off balance causing pain to the base of his foot.

"Lay it all on me," Wesker smirked. "That's my Pet."

"I'm  _not_  your pet," Chris growled, ignoring the pain in his foot as he stood. "You have no right to own me. You don't have a soul. There is nothing good or clean inside of you."

This struck a nerve in Wesker and the blond was suddenly charging. Chris wasn't able to block the charge and, instead, got sent flying into the wall opposite of the bed. His lower back stung as he stood, again, unready for the attacks that ensued. A punch flew at him, hitting him in the jaw then another on the opposite side forcing his face down. Wesker completed the assault by forcing Chris's face down and colliding it with his knee, sending Chris reeling backwards into his bedside table.

"You cannot blame me simply because you are making decisions that you deem as mistakes over and over again," Wesker hissed before lunging again.

Chris stopped him this time by catching the blond by the shoulders. This turned out to be rather useless as the blond clutched at Chris's shoulders as well and, instead, sent him flying back first onto the bed. He sat up, his legs bent over the edge of the bed and his arms keeping himself steady despite his lightheadedness.

"You are dead inside. That's what Spencer told you, wasn't it? You were made to be like this. You were made to be Umbrella's tool," Chris looked up when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his temple.

"What file did you read that out of?" Wesker growled as his eyes met Chris's from behind slightly glowing shades as his anger was beginning to dark red glow would be threatening to most but Chris Redfield would never fear Albert Wesker.

"Umbrella wasn't exactly ashamed of what they were doing. It wasn't difficult to find the journals and reports scattered everywhere," Chris said challengingly, his eyes unmoving from the powerful gaze.

Wesker's face remained inches from Chris's. The brunet could feel every angry breath of air that Wesker released from his gritted teeth and clenched jaw. Chris challenged Wesker in every way to pull the trigger that his finger so desperately wanted to squeeze. Chris's eyes practically begged Wesker to shoot, hit, or fuck him; neither really knew but it was a challenge nonetheless and the blond was trying significantly harder than he should have to try and figure out which he should do.

"Kill me," Chris growled quietly. "You keep claiming I'm different because I can tell you that you're a cold heartless bastard and you'll still come back. Just like the game you have set up where you get to fuck me to your heart's content as long as I'm pissed off enough. I even fucked you when I wanted to kill you; Hell, I always want to kill you."

Wesker's clenched jaw slowly closed and the left side of his mouth raised into a smirk. The smirk grew and soon he was chuckling his slow, dark, dry laugh.

"Chris, you really don't understand it? Where do you think all the wanton lust comes from? The anger is a rather large supplier but what really fuels it? The hatred; The absolute need to kill each other makes it all the more dangerous and you can't get enough of it. The astonishing part of this is you know I'm playing a game but when I kiss you, you'll kiss me back. I'll then fuck you until you can't walk and you'll moan out my name like you never have before because you'll enjoy every second of it," Wesker hissed and Chris suddenly realized the cold metal was no longer pressed to his head and was, instead, already put away inside Wesker's jacket.

As if on clockwork, their lips pressed roughly together. Chris parted his lips, if not only to relieve the sudden pressure on his lips, and allowed Wesker to dominate his mouth. Chris let out a low growl when he was suddenly pulled from the bed by the hips and thrown to the ground, breaking the kiss and effectively causing Chris to become more aware of the ache in his back. Wesker was crawling over the brunet moments after not even allowing Chris to get his bearings back as he was suddenly being pushed down and sat comfortably on Chris's stomach a leg on either side of him and his hands under the fabric of the brunette's shirt, rubbing at the warm skin there and teasing him with lips on lips.

Quite a few harsh kisses, deep moans, and dark threats later, they were right back to how they began; Chris in deep regret but uncaring of it and Wesker far too smug for his own good.

Whatever the fuck it was they did-whether it was a game, simply out of anger, or they just wanted sex- it worked.

For now, anyway, it worked.


End file.
